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Determined
politestpirate wrote in milliways_bar
[OOM: In which Merriman requests Archie Kennedy's help in apprehending a pair of dangerous fugitives. Sort of. The following discussion with said fugitives more than likely will not be found on any official reports when all is said and done.]

From here.

Henry Wellard opens the Front Door, and steps in to Milliways. The door swings shut behind him, but at the moment he is paying it no heed. Yes, he was right. It was all true. Give it a moment to sink in, and then he will begin worrying about everything he may have missed.

Wellard looks a little worse for wear, standing with the stiffness that indicates bruised ribs, and he is holding his left arm carefully-

But, he is all in one piece. And alive- that does really count for something, at any rate.

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Hannah is long past the point when she would turn to look every time the door opened.

So it may take a moment, or two, or ten, before she looks up and see him.

And then she gets up, takes exactly three steps towards him, and stops, one hand going to brush her hair out of her face, somewhat needlessly, then drops to her side. She's still, and while it's not exactly tense, it's very controlled, mouth in a thin, tight line.

Even if you know her well, it might be hard to tell exactly what Hannah is thinking right now. That might be because Hannah doesn't know, herself.

Henry Wellard knows her well, or as well as a person who has missed the last five and a half (rather critical) months of her life can. (That, Henry, is what you have missed, and that may be hard to recover from, on both sides.)

Hannah isn't sure at all what she's supposed to do here.

So she just waits.

That would be one of the things Wellard is worried about that he missed, yes. And there is no way he can make up for those five months and what happened here.

That much he knows.

Wellard has no idea what to do here either.

After another moment, he steps forwards, taking a deep breath.

"I- I have no idea what happened here while I was gone, or even really how long it was. I can only imagine, Hannah- and it won't even come close." He looks down at his hands for a long moment, before looking back up to her.

"I am sorry, though that probably doesn't even come close to making up anything and everything you went through while I was gone."

Hannah folds her arms, and gives him a very level look.

"A little over three months here," she says, and her voice it tight and clipped. "Almost twice that for me. And no, you don't, and no, it won't, and no, it doesn't, though I'm not clear on why you think you need to apologize.

"Hello to you, too. Welcome back. Are you all right?"

Another deep, careful breath, and Wellard manages a humorless smile. "I'm a little bruised and cut up, but mostly alright. I survived- both the battle and the Locker."

There is a quick glance around the bar, his jaw clenching.

"... Six months for you. Which would be the reason why behind the apology, since I figured that coming in here as if nothing happened would be insulting to you and everyone else here concerned about me."

"You really should still start with 'hello,'" she says, quietly. "And ask how I am, and let me answer, before you apologize for making me that way.

"I missed you, and I was worried about you, and Commodore Lyon is the least comforting, most useless provider of information I have ever encountered, by the way. And I'm glad you're back, and I'm glad you're okay, and I'm really mad at you, and I have no idea what I'm supposed to say now."

"... Right, then." Wellard nods slowly, biting his lip.

"I missed you too, Hannah, and I never would have left you to worry if I had any choice in the matter. If I was able to get a message to you, I-" He raises his hand, then drops it back to his side, slowly.

"I've no idea either." Quietly.

"What, you mean you don't have any more speeches planned?" she says, and then shakes her head. "I'm sorry. That wasn't fair.

"I really am glad you're back," she says, less angry and getting closer to tears. "I've been . . . I've been scared."

"Nothing planned." A bit clipped, but the frown does not last long.

He could not say which was worse- Hannah being angry at him, or near tears. Wellard does reach his hand up again, touching her arm- waiting to see what she does in regard to that.

"I was too."

Hannah still remains one of the few people he would admit that to.

There is a very loud shriek of joy coming closer very quickly. If Wellard is going to duck, he'd better do it now.

"HENRY!" Elda barrels towards him and barely stops short. He might get some feathers to the face. "You're back!"

Wellard has had lots of practice on his reflexes, lately. He steps back for just enough room so Elda does not finish the job someone started on his ribs. Hopefully.

He is smiling, though. "Ah- yes. Hello, Elda."

"Hello? Is that all you've got to say? You...! You're such a stupid boy."

Elda grabs him (carefully! She saw the step back.) and wraps her wings around him, tugging carefully at his hair with her beak.

"I was so worried!"

Carefully is good! Though Wellard is still able half-hug Elda back, (wrinkling his nose through a faceful of feathers).

"Not really that sure what else to say, except that I'm sorry for worrying you and everyone."

"You should be," she tells him in the same voice she used to use when tattling on her older siblings.

"Are you all right?" Elda lets him go quickly to look him over. "I didn't hurt you, did I? Here I am, lecturing you about being more careful-"

"I'll remember that for next time." With a wry smile, and then a quick, reassuring shake of his head.

"You didn't- I'm alright. Well, mostly. Its not that bad, really."

Wellard has been shot, before. Next to that, many injuries are 'not that bad'.

She eyes him suspiciously. "On a sliding scale, how are you from zero to Blodwen Rowlands?" Elda pokes him in the shoulder with one talon.

"Come sit down. Do you need a drink? Something to eat?" Prepare to be mothered.

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